Realization
by CLLMichaelis
Summary: What's a demon to do when he realizes his undeniable feelings for his master.


SILENCE

Silence is a deadly thing. A short warning before everything falls to chaos. The calm before a storm. However, sometimes silence seems to present a sense of peace, of security. To any outsider, that is how it would look right now, as they watched a little boy asleep in bed. He lays on his back, his small body wrapped securely in white cotton sheets. Those observations, mixed with his pale, almost ghostly features, showed an image that could nearly be related to a corpse in the process of mummification.

The shadow of a man, hidden well in the dark corner, held back a smirk at the thought, even as a twinge of pain knotted in his chest. There was a time when there wasn't a thing he wouldn't give to see the small boy lifeless below him, while he devoured a very pure, very tainted, soul. All those years he'd spent practically _worshiping_ the mortal, would have paid off. No longer would he have to battle his own self control. He could purge. And purge he would. Nip by bite, and chew by swallow, till all that was left was a rotting corpse, and crimson blood stained on his face.

Although the opportunity hadn't even come to present itself yet, that time no longer existed. How could it? When just the thought of his young master lifeless caused unwelcome tension where he knows a heart should be. No, he could never kill the boy. Even though that admission will become the end of him, one way or another.

The demon could just imagine the look on his masters face, as he, a demon no less, admitted why he no longer wished to consume the boy's soul. The young lord would laugh no doubt, and it was of course, very laughable. The thought of a demon falling in love with a human. And his own master, at that. What a despicable thought. Surely a demon of that caliber is not worth his salt. Sebastian was now only a disgrace, both to his position as a butler, and to members of his own race.

After a small bout of cynical laughter, the boy would no doubt demand an explanation to this foolishness. Perhaps then claim that Sebastian was only teasing him, or trying to play a new game. Maybe even go so far as to call the demon pathetic, a disgrace. What if the boy never even wanted to see him again? He knows well that homosexuality is not accepted in the eyes of most humans, the England law included. To that, Sebastian would have no rational response. Because honestly, it would leave him internally begging for death. Even if the boy won't love him back, the thought of his master disowning him would be far too much to handle. Without the young lord, Sebastian no longer had anything left to live for.

Stepping out of the shadows, Sebastian makes his way towards the bed where his little lord sleeps. With slow movements, a gloved hand brushes a strand of teal hair off the boy's face. Small chills race up his hand with the simple contact. He will never be able to touch his master the way he wishes to. All the small contact he receives when dressing and undressing the boy is torture. The touches are never enough to satisfy, but always enough to taunt. They are reminders of what he will never be able to have.

Sebastian, deciding to push his limits, leans down to press his lips against the other's softer, smaller ones. The contact is brief, and fleeting. Still, the demon revels in it. Savoring the little taste of heaven that will never be his. As soon as their lips part, Sebastian is out of the room.

Somehow his young master, out of millions of humans, had bested him without even knowing it.

REALIZATION

Realization is the suspension in that last sliver of silence, the moment where you can see the waves of chaos approaching, but are helpless to stop them. Sebastian sits in his pathetic excuse of a room, staring through empty air and watching as the dam he has tried so hard to keep up crumbles. As it falls apart he feels a cold sense of sorrow wash over him, like the rushing of air. It whistles through his ears, and rams at his chest. He gasps for air he'd never needed before, but finds his lungs can't move.

He realizes, just before a fresh surge of tribulation hits him, that the air ringing in his ears is whispering five crippling words which make his heart stop. He wants more than anything to deny them, scream at the walls of his tiny room that they aren't true. If only that wouldn't make him the liar.

The algid waves numb his body, like thousands of little needles pricking his skin. He falls to his knees, his hands shaking, and his mouth slightly agape. This truly must be a sight to behold; a demon brought to his knees by a mere human _child_.

Somewhere in the back of his mind Sebastian questions that last thought. Trying to justify, in any way he can, why Ciel would be perfectly mature enough to participate in sexual activities with a creature as old as him. Things such as; _He has seen and done much more than any ordinary thirteen year old..._ or, _Anyone can see his mind is aged far beyond his years._ However, those turbulent winds are a reminder of how in vain the justification is, as they keep whispering: _Ciel can never love you._

Ciel will never love him back. Sebastian thought he had come to terms with this. He recognized all the reasons why he could never be with Ciel, knew that even if you excluded the fact that homosexuality is illegal, simply having any type or romantic or sexual relationship between a master and servant was a disgrace. Not to mention that the young master is _engaged_ to Lady Elizabeth. Yet, even knowing all this, somewhere in his newly discovered heart, he believed there was a chance Ciel would love him back. Now he knows how foolish that hope was, but the pain that comes with it makes him wish for death.

Anything, _anything,_ would be better than this torment, and before Sebastian even processes what he is doing, black-nailed hands are freed from their gloves and clawing at his chest. Clothes are mindlessly ripped, skin is torn through like tissue paper, and the only recognition given when ribs are shattered, is a slight gasp. Sinews are severed as he searches in his chest in a desperate attempt to find some form of relief. But even after the once-beating muscle lays still in his hand, and the white carpet has been stained crimson, the former pain remains as an ache that prospers much deeper in his chest than the gash he now bears.

CONFESSION

Confessions come in many different ways. Sometimes they are the simple idealistic dreams of a child who's been lost to the stars. For others they arrive as pleas of forgiveness, and pathetic admissions to a bespectacled spirit when one's clock has stopped ticking. Sebastian's confession came as a last enervated grasp of hope. The three desperate words thickening the already stiff air of Ciel's study, and Sebastian could visibly tell how tense the boys frame had become. His eyes glued to the document on his desk, staring through it and into the floor below, and his feather quill frozen mid-sentence.

"I don't have time for your games today, Sebastian." The boy's voice breaks the silence. His quill scratches through the air. The clock ticks again.

Sebastian cannot move, stunned by his master's response, and his own self for proclaiming what he'd wished to hide. Ciel doesn't notice, oblivious in his own work. The pile of papers left of his desk decrease rapidly. When they have all been finished, the sun is far below the horizon. No candle has been lit, and the moon filtering through the window is the only source of light. Ciel stands from his desk with a sigh. Intent on going to the door, but instead walking straight into his butler. The boy grunts.

"I told you I don't have time for this Sebastian," He says. "I wish to retire now."

"My lord... " Sebastian's voice is barely audible. He kneels down to Ciel's level and places a hand on his master's cheek. How can Ciel not believe him? He had sworn many times to never lie to the boy. Sebastian runs a hand through Ciel's hair and pushes off his eye patch.

"Sebastian, I order you to stop this nonsense!"

DESPERATION

Sebastian used to look down upon desperate humans. How pathetic they were, snatching at any string of hope they might find. However, the demon had finally learned that desperation has the power to change _anyone_. It can turn good men bad, force a little boy to sell his soul... make a servant disobey his master.

Sebastian crashes his lips to Ciel's. The demon had found one last string and he'd be damned twice if he didn't take it. He tangles his fingers into the boy's silken hair. They grasp on tight and keep Ciel's face pressed securely against his own. For a moment he can almost believe that Ciel is melting into the kiss. His lips are soft as rose petals, smooth and sweet; molding perfectly against the other's.

A loud _slap_ resounds throughout the room.

"Just what do you think you're playing at!"

Sebastian's head remains turned, a faint red mark remains on his face. "Forgive me, My Lord." He turns to look at his master. "However, I assure you, I am not playing at anything."

"I don't believe you." Ciel's voice sends ice throughout his core.

"Master, I cannot lie to you."

"You mean...?" The boy's voice is different this time. It is soft and wavering.

"I am in love with you." Sebastian finishes.

HOPE

Hope is dangerous. It promises things it cannot keep, and leads people down roads they should not go. However, in the end, hope is all we have. Hope keeps us going, shows us the light at the end of a tunnel. Without hope we would not move forward.

Sebastian was never one to hold on to such a human concept, but when his master leans forward and once again connects their lips, he cannot help but let that little spark of hope fester in his chest.


End file.
